


Space Between

by GoblinHob



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinHob/pseuds/GoblinHob
Summary: A former slave, Ahlia Starseer, joins the Mandalorian as he travels the galaxy. He's cold and menacing, but something about him make Ahlia think there's more underneath that impenetrable armor.The Mandalorian doesn't take passengers, and definitely no wayward lost souls. Not after he had to let the one thing he loved most in the universe go. He's learned his lesson, and nothing can change that.Set post season 2 finale, I'm just trying to find a healthy outlet for my Pedro Pascal love.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a hot minute since I've written anything, so I hope you enjoy!

Ahlia Starseer woke to the sound of blaster fire and not-so-distant screams. She leapt to her feet from her place on the floor and moved to the furthest corner of the room, searching for anything she might use as a weapon, if it came to it. She cursed her luck, if Ahlia had only been in the slave barracks or the hangar where she wanted to be, she’d have any number of objects at her disposal, sharpened and blunt. Instead, she was in this plush, useless bedroom waiting for… well, just waiting.

Ahlia jumped as the door to the room burst open and the squid-like figure of Urphe Muhl stumbled into the room, red streaks of blaster fire flying through the hall behind him. He slammed and bolted the door.

“What’s going on?” Ahlia demanded.

Urphe jolted, he hadn’t noticed Ahlia in her corner. “It’s that damned Mandalorian, I didn’t think he was still in the bounty hunting business, kriff!” Urphe spat, more to himself that in response to Ahlia.

All at once, the sounds of fighting stopped and a still silence crept its way under the door and into the room.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff,” Urphe backed across the room near where Ahlia stood. She flicked her eyes around the room once more, desperate for anything, anything she could use to protect herself.

There, under one of Urphe’s dozen pillows, she could just make out the glimmering handle of a blade. Slowly, she crept her hand towards it, wary of Urphe’s gaze, locked on the door. As she grasped the hilt, the door hissed open.

Standing in the doorway was a metal man, his helm gleaming amongst the smoke that billowed around him. He pointed his blaster at Ahlia, “Drop it.” The command was even and intimidating, Ahlia dropped the blade without hesitating. The man swung his blaster to Urphe. “Urphe Muhl, the bounty on your head says ‘dead or alive’.” The threat was unspoken, but abundantly clear, nonetheless. Ahlia tore her eyes from the bounty hunter and looked towards Urphe. From her angle, she could see the edge of a small arm cannon under Urphe’s sleeve.

Urphe slowly raised his arms, and Ahlia lost sight of the cannon, “Listen, Mando, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” He took a step forward, and the Mandalorian tightened his finger on the blaster trigger. Urphe stopped, “In fact, bringing me in at all is trouble! How about I make it worth your while, huh? What’s your pleasure? I got spice, credits, hell, why don’t you take her?” He nodded his head in Ahlia’s direction.

Ahlia tensed, but the Mandalorian made no motion to signal whether he was looking at her or not. He moved forward, his left hand going to his belt towards a pair of manacles. In the same moment, Ahlia saw Urphe move his cannon-arm, ready to fire.

Without thinking, Ahlia grasped the blade from the pillows and, with all her strength, flung it at Urphe. It was a poor throw, and the knife hit Urphe hilt-first, but her aim was true. The handle struck Urphe’s wrist, and the cannon blast fired wide. The Mandalorian’s reflexes were just as quick, and as Ahlia’s blade hit Urphe, so did the Mandalorian’s blaster fire.

For a moment, Urphe didn’t react. His face still had an expression of smug triumph, as if his cannon had hit his target. Just as the smoke from his singed and gory chest began to rise, he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Without a moment’s pause, the Mandalorian turned his blaster on Ahlia, “Not going to throw any more of those, are you?” His voice modulator made the question sound flat, at odds with the tension in the room.

Ahlia shook her head.

After a moment, the Mandalorian placed his blaster back in its holster and bent down to start dragging Urphe Muhl’s body away, presumably to his ship. With the unbidden urge to help, Ahlia walked over to grab Urphe’s arms and help carry the body. The Mandalorian tipped his helmet up and she looked into the t-shaped viewplate. She imagined she saw confusion there, but it was short lived as the Mandalorian lifted Urphe’s legs and she followed suit with his arms.

In silence, they lugged the corpse through the Muhl syndicate’s compound. Ahlia couldn’t help but gape at the carnage as they made their way through the halls. Scorch marks littered the walls and at every corner lay the bodies of Urphe’s men.

“You did all this yourself?” She gasped, eyes wide. She got no response, though it wasn’t all that necessary, she supposed.

Notably absent were any other slaves, and Ahlia hoped they had all fled towards freedom, a freedom that Ahlia also possessed now that Urphe was dead. The realization made her stumble, and Ahlia struggled not to drop the body she helped carry. The Mandalorian grunted at the fumble, and Ahlia whispered an apology.

They reached the edge of the compound and just outside the walls, among the cover of some trees and bushes, the Mandalorian directed Ahlia to heft the body into a rickety landspeeder. The Mandalorian climbed into the craft, unhindered by his full suit of armor, and turned the engine on.

As the Mandalorian moved to speed away, Ahlia practically screamed, “Wait!”

Perhaps more shocking than Ahlia’s outburst, the Mandalorian did wait.

“I… There’s nothing here for me. There never was, really. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” She took a shaky breath to collect her thoughts. “I’m useful. I’m a trained mechanic, and I’m good at it. I can cook and clean. I can hold my own and look after myself, and I promise I won’t be a burden just… please. Can I come with you?” Ahlia held her breath, knowing she hadn’t made her case sound particularly worthwhile in taking on, but hoping beyond hope that it had been enough. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she was asking this bounty hunter instead of finding her way to a surrounding town and making her way, but freedom was new and Ahlia had no idea what to do with it yet.

The Mandalorian didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity. As Ahlia resigned herself to his rejection of her plea, he said, “Get in.”

She could’ve cried, and almost did. With misty eyes and an unidentifiable feeling blooming large and frightening in her chest, Ahlia stumbled into the speeder and they left sight of the compound.

The journey was quick and silent. Ahlia sat in utter disbelief, thinking about how drastically her life had changed in the past hour, staring at the back of the Mandalorian’s shining helmet. The wind whipped her hair in her face and eyes, but she didn’t feel its sting, she’d gone numb.

As they crested a hill, an old Corellian VCX-100 light freighter came into view. Its grey hull was scattered with blaster burns and it looked to be missing a few bolts. She thanked her lucky stars that she served as a mechanic, it looked like this ship was in dire need of one. Even in the less-than-pristine shape it was in though, Ahlia was impressed that the Mandalorian had one at all. VCX-100s were reliable ships, and it couldn’t have been cheap, not that she was an expert. Ahlia had only ever worked on one before, but she remembered it well. She supposed that would help to show her worth to her new… employer? Associate? Certainly not friend.

The Mandalorian stopped the landspeeder and hopped out, waiting for Ahlia to do the same. When she landed with a jolt on the dirt, the Mandalorian pressed a button on the hull and a loading ramp descended. They grabbed Urphe’s body and moved it into the cargo bay, maneuvering it towards a carbon freezer where it was instantly frozen in a hiss of gas at the push of a button. Ahlia had seen living slaves be forced into carbonite before, and she shivered at the memory as she turned away from the carbon-freezer.

Wiping her forehead, Ahlia made to ask the Mandalorian What now? when she turned, and he was already walking away. Unsure of herself, Ahlia followed him through the ship. They passed a galley, common room, and what Ahlia assumed to be the sleeping quarters before reaching the cockpit. It was small, only large enough for two chairs, and the Mandalorian sat himself in one of them. Ahlia didn’t dare take the other.

She stood there through the Mandalorian’s pre-flight checks, the navigation systems being set, lift-off, and the jump to hyperspace, all in silence. The cockpit was cold, but the Mandalorian’s demeanor was colder. She’d endured her fair share of deplorable men in her 24 years having seen three masters and their associates, but standing there in that moment, she felt a tendril of fear unlike any she’d felt in a long time. The shock and anxiety of her new reality began to settle its immense weight upon her shoulders.

Without warning, the Mandalorian spun in his chair to face Ahlia. He stood up and approached her until he loomed above her, hardly 6 inches away, almost a foot taller than she was and far more menacing. Ahlia couldn’t help but flinch.

“I don’t take passengers. If you’re going to stay, you’re going to work. You said you cook?” Ahlia nodded. “Then you’ll do that. I can do mechanic repairs, but I’ll need extra hands, you’ll do that too. Most importantly, you won’t get in my way. That means you do as I say, when I say it. No questions. No arguments. You’ll get paid ten percent of whatever I make on bounties.” He paused, “You’re not a slave anymore, I’ll be clear on that. But make no mistake, I’m in charge here.”

Ahlia swallowed thickly and nodded again.

“Good. There are no sleeping quarters for you, but you can take the common room. There are blankets in one of the cupboards there. Get something to eat, too, you look like you could use it.”

The Mandalorian went back to his chair and turned to the controls, helmet staring blankly into the stars that blurred past.

After a moment, Ahlia slowly made her way back to the common room on shaking legs. She found a blanket, though she couldn’t have told you where she’d taken it from. Her mind was so cluttered and frantic it may has well have been blank, she couldn’t find the sense to latch onto any particular line of thought. She lay down on a thinly cushioned bench and stared at the ceiling.

She burst into tears, sobbing until exhaustion pulled her into sleep.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahlia tries to get to know her new employer.

Ahlia rubbed her eyes and grimaced, she’d slept deeply but felt more exhausted than before she’d gone to bed. She sat up and stretched her arms, they were sore after carrying Urphe’s body the day before. At least, she was pretty sure it had been the day before. Ahlia didn’t know how long she’d slept, but hoped it hadn’t been long enough to irritate the Mandalorian who seemed to always be on edge.

Hurriedly, she went to the galley and threw together something she supposed passed for breakfast. Some ration bread, two small bowls of mystery broth, and a fruit she didn’t know the name of but remembered seeing years ago for the Mandalorian.

Without trouble, Ahlia found the cockpit and cleared her throat before entering, but if she’d surprised the Mandalorian, he didn’t show it.

“I brought some breakfast, it’s not much but I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept and I didn’t know if you were hungry or…” she trailed off, hesitating before stepping forward and setting the Mandalorian’s food down on an open space of the control panel. When he didn’t say anything or move to take any of the food, Ahlia continued, “But if you want something else I can put something together.”

“This is fine,” He replied, though he didn’t start eating.

Ahlia took a bite of the bread and a few sips of the broth, chewing slowly and shifting her weight from foot to foot. She still didn’t feel right sitting in the other pilot’s chair. The Mandalorian didn’t look her way, only stared out the viewshield into the passing stars. When Ahlia had finished her bread and had only the dregs of her broth left, the Mandalorian still hadn’t touched his food.

“Really, if you don’t want that I can make something different. Or if you’re not hungry I can bring something by later,” She was almost offended, at this point.

The Mandalorian’s head shifted in her direction, “No. I can’t eat while you’re here.” Ahlia must have looked visibly puzzled because the Mandalorian continued, “It’s my creed. The helmet stays on, no one sees me.”

“No one has ever seen your face?” In her curiosity, Ahlia forgot her trepidation and sat in the second chair, facing the Mandalorian.

He sighed through the voice modulator, “It’s complicated.”

“Oh,” Ahlia didn’t think he’d expand on that, so she asked, “Is that the same for all Mandalorians?” She didn’t know much about Mandalorians having only heard about them from other slaves or by overhearing the conversations between Urphe and his associates.

“No, not all of us,” he tensed.

Sensing the need to veer away from that particular line of questioning, but unable to keep herself from wanting to know more about Mandalorians, she asked, “Were you born on Mandalore?”

He seemed surprised by her question, “Uh, no. I was a foundling.” He reached a gloved hand into a pouch at his hip and grasped something small there and turned to stare back out into space. Through his fingers, Ahlia could see the gleam of a small silver sphere, which the Mandalorian quickly stuffed away when he sensed her looking.

Clearing her throat once more, Ahlia stood up, feeling suddenly intrusive. “I’ll let you eat, then. If you need anything, I’ll be in the common room, so just call my name.”

“What is your name?”

“Oh,” Ahlia hadn’t even told him who she was before begging to tag along. “I’m Ahlia. Starseer.”

“Starseer?”

She shrugged, “My mentor gave it to me, he thought it suited me. What do I call you?”

“Mando.”  


*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Mando. Well, it wasn’t exactly creative, but it was straightforward. That suited him, Ahlia thought.

She spent the next few hours taking inventory of the galley (not much to work with, unfortunately) and exploring the ship. Ahlia first went to the cargo bay and poked around there, though she kept a wide berth from the carbon freezer. There was nothing of much excitement other than a cupboard that pulled out to reveal an impressive assortment of weapons. She quickly shut that away, though, as she had the distinct feeling Mando wouldn’t appreciate her messing with those. Other than that, it was pretty bare.

Walking aimlessly through the ship she also found the refresher, which she was infinitely grateful for after not peeing for Force knows how long, the engine room, the bay where a smaller shuttle was supposed to be docked but was missing, the airlocks, and the turret control.

The turret control had a large domed viewshield where she could see everything around the ship practically 360 degrees. She itched to sit in the chair and grasp the cannon controls, the fantasy of blasting away enemy starfighters vivid in her imagination. When she was a girl hearing tales of the battles between Republic and Empire forces, she’d dreamed of being some sort of hero fighter. She’d thought those fantasies had been squashed by reality years ago, but looking at the controls, she felt like a kid playing ‘space battles’ again.

With one last lingering gaze, she turned from the turret control and went back to the galley to make some lunch. As she put together a reconstituted-vegetable stew, she found herself looking forward to bringing it to Mando. While he wasn’t much of a talker, their earlier conversation had been nice. He hadn’t been nearly as standoffish as the day before, so maybe, even after such a short time, he had warmed to her.

Smiling, Ahlia made up two bowls of the stew and walked to the cockpit. She hit the button with her elbow to slide the door open and walked inside, saying, “I’ve brought some lunch. It’s not much, but it’s pretty tasty and—”

“Just set it down,” Mando grunted.

Ahlia did and sat down with her own bowl at the chair. As she raised her spoon to take a bite, the Mandalorian said without looking at her, “That will be all.”

“I’m sorry?” She spluttered. Did she do something wrong by just walking in?

“I’m fine without the company.” His tone was even while speaking, but Ahlia felt like he’d screamed in her face.

Shakily, she said, “Okay, I’ll go then.”

Ahlia grabbed her bowl and shuffled out of the cockpit, listening to the hiss snick of the door sliding closed behind her.

Against her better judgment, she felt blindsided. It was just a few hours ago that they’d been talking, and Mando had even shared a little about his past. It was nice, right? She wasn’t entitled to his friendship or his kindness, but it stung nevertheless.

Maybe he knew that she’d been poking around the ship and didn’t like it, maybe he felt like she’d invaded his privacy or crossed some sort of boundary. Ahlia worried over this for hours in the common room, not daring to go anywhere else but the galley and refresher so as to not offend the Mandalorian any further. When she brought him dinner, his demeanor remained cold as he said nothing to her, and Ahlia left his food and the cockpit as quickly as she could.

This went on for two days of silence and unbearable tension. Ahlia felt ready to burst, torn between feeling remorseful over her mystery sleight and livid that she was being treated so unfairly for something she wasn’t even sure she did.

She’d settled somewhere in between the two when she brought Mando his dinner, knocking \ before opening the door. Instead of leaving the tray of food as she had been, this time she set it down, none too gently, and sat in the second chair. She made an attempt to glare straight into Mando’s viewplate, but averted her gaze when he turned towards her after realizing she wasn’t going to leave.

“What?”

Ahlia steeled herself, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?”

“Yes, your problem! You don’t go from having pleasant conversation over breakfast to practically hostile without having a problem.” Ahlia let her eyes flick towards Mando’s face, attempting to discern if she’d gone too far.

Mando sat in his chair seemingly unperturbed, “Do you always speak so… brazenly to your employers?”

“Ha! Employers!” She laughed, darkly. “You know, I didn’t exactly apply for the position of ‘Slave’. And yes, I do, if you must know.”

He tilted his head slightly before asking, “Why were you in Urphe Muhl’s bedroom when I found you?”

“Excuse me?” Ahlia narrowed her eyes, feeling a grotesque combination of rage and shame. “I don’t know what you think you’re implying but—”

“I’m not implying anything,” he cut her off.

Ahlia felt so very small in that moment, and she felt her eyes become misty despite her best efforts. She willed her voice to stay even, “That was cruel.”

“So is the galaxy.”

She openly laughed while she brushed a rogue tear from her face, “You think I’m not aware of that? For Force’s sake, you can’t be that thick! I don’t remember my family because I’ve been shuffled around from master to master for so long, many of whom with some lascivious tastes, including Uprhe Muhl, as you so astutely inferred. I can count on one hand, one hand, the number of people I could call a friend. I’ve had nothing given to and everything taken from me, so yes, I get that this galaxy is cruel and unforgiving, I don’t need you to remind me of that” Ahlia steadied herself with a breath. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that just because this universe is out to make us suffer doesn’t mean we have to make its job any easier by being assholes to each other.” She swallowed thickly and shrunk back into her chair, looking anywhere but at the Mandalorian.

They were silent for a long while, which Ahlia knew was preferable to some other alternatives. She didn’t know this man, all she knew was that he could be dangerous. She’d gotten in trouble for her mouth before, but that outburst had been reckless. He hadn’t blasted her yet or thrown her in the airlock, though, so Ahlia didn’t think that the Mandalorian would kill her for calling him an asshole. She hoped.

Mando broke the silence with a sight, “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she replied, dumbly, “thank you.”

Ahlia didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know what she’d expected from the Mandalorian, but it certainly hadn’t been an apology.

“We’ll be landing on Nevarro in a few hours,” Mando told her. “You can take a shower and get a a bit of rest, if you want. I’ll wake you up when we’re a half hour out.”

Ahlia nodded, accepting this information as Mando’s dismissal without any argument.

She took a sonic shower and grimaced when she put her dirty, three-day-old clothing back on. Once she got paid, she’d have to get some new clothes, she hadn’t had to the presence of mind to grab any of her belongings before getting on Mando’s ship and flying away.

Mando, Force! He’s so… bewildering!

She made a mug of tea and sat on her bench in the common room, sipping quietly and thinking about him. Ahlia wondered if she’d ever understand him or his behavior. She hadn’t met anyone so hot and cold in her life!

She thought back to their initial conversation when she’d first brought him breakfast. She abruptly remembered Mando telling her that he’d been a foundling, and that he had reached to touch that metal sphere at his side. Why did that moment stick out to her?

The more she considered it, the more Ahlia realized that Mando had his own past to deal with. And though she knew virtually nothing about him, she had the distinct feeling that Mando had had even fewer people than she’d had to help him understand the way of the galaxy. He was a foundling to a people who didn’t have a planet anymore, never showed his face, and traveled alone through space capturing and killing strangers for money. No wonder his social skills were a bit lacking.

Even though she wanted to remain angry, Ahlia couldn’t help but feel for the Mandalorian, and she grappled with that realization until she fell into a light sleep.

She woke to the Mandalorian gently shaking her awake.

“We’re almost to Nevarro.”

Ahlia rubbed her eyes and yawned. She didn’t have anything that she needed to prepare for Nevarro, so she just joined Mando in the cockpit as they broke the planet’s atmosphere and began their descent. They sat in silence, though now it was considerably more comfortable than it had been the past few days.

They landed in a rocky field near a town, and Mando led the way out of the ship and walked towards it. His strides were long and sure, Ahlia struggled to keep up and had to keep an awkward half-jogging pace.

“We’re going to see a friend of mine,” Mando told her with his even, modulated tone. Ahlia struggled not to balk at the word ‘friend’. “He’s a good man, but he’s also a prick. Don’t take everything he says at face value, he likes to make people tick.”

“Um, alright.”

They’d barely entered the town limits when a booming voice rang out, “Mando! I was wondering when you’d find another poor, lost soul to take under your wing!”

Ahlia wanted to ask Mando what the man meant by that, but tucked it away in her mind to ask at another time when she thought he might actually give her an answer.

A dozen yards ahead of them stood a broad, jovial man with dark skin and a grey goatee. He held his arms wide in welcome and spoke with such familiarity that Ahlia knew he must be the friend Mando had spoken of.

“Greef, you seem to be doing even better than when I last saw you.”

“Well,” the man, Greef, chuckled and patted his chest absentmindedly, “When Nevarro changes, so do I. And Nevarro has only been getting better and better. But enough about this boring old man, who’s this lovely young woman you have with you?”

Before Mando could answer, Ahlia put out her hand. “I’m Ahlia, Mando just hired me.”

Greef gave a sidelong glance in Mando’s direction, “Well, Ahlia, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve got plenty to tell you about your new employer, none of which he’d want you to hear. But let’s take this somewhere more comfortable, shall we?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked deeper into town. Mando followed, so of course Ahlia did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Stay safe out there!
> 
> XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Actual plot will be coming in the next chapter, including some friendly faces that we all know and love.
> 
> Stay safe, stay sane!
> 
> XOXO


End file.
